Foundations
by ThatCrazyNothing
Summary: There's always moments...
1. Pain

_**Foundations**_

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Glee. I make zero profit from this. The characters are most definitely not mine, or something along these lines would have been canon._

**T**his whole thing is just a random thought that popped into my head. So, I decided to keep an open fic where I will just add random one-shots/drabbles sporadically, or really if and when an idea may pop into my mind and I manage write it down before it flies away again.

_**O**ne_

Sometimes her rebuilt hip aches from the cold. Sometimes the pain paralyses her once again and she can't walk, or even stand. Sometimes it causes stinging tears of pain.

On those times she becomes self conscious again. She hides her pain with bitchiness and a cold, unemotional expression. She won't let you see the small scars that mar her skin across her thigh and up to her waist, around to her spine and back to her navel.

You know to spot the signs now. A small, permanent line between her brows; dark emerald eyes instead of bright hazel; limping more than the usual nobody-who-isn't-_you_-would-notice; snapping at inane things, things that she usually gives a wry smile at. Sometimes, because she's in such a terrible pain filled mood, she adds more sugar to her tea; she usually has one and a half, not half the tub.

When the first sign comes you make her favourite coffee. Toffee caramel coffee with extra cream on top and a dash, or more, of brandy.

With the second - the darkening of her eyes as she hides the crippling pain - you wait until she's asleep and rub your hands up and down her leg and side. She'd never let you do it while she's awake, but in sleep she's free, her forehead uncrumples and her tense muscles relax as your hands work away the knots.

The third, when she starts to limp, she gets ansty. She can't sit still for a long time because she starts to seize up. So you make elaborate schemes up - she has to help you with cooking (washing up after you, getting all the plates and bowls you need); she has to dance with you on the _Wii,_ and you make sure to do it half heartedly because that way she thinks she's doing it better and it makes her mood lift, even though her movements are stiff and rigid; the both of you have to walk every night with the dog, even though at best you usually take him on long walks on the weekend, not weekdays.

When she gets mad, she gets angry. Angry Quinn means angry, frustrated sex. This means she likes to be top, she likes to control the speed, which is always fast and rough. You wait for when she pauses, when she rests her head against your collar bone and releases a shaky breath against your neck, one that has nothing to do with your, really rather enjoyable, activities. When she does, you take control, you hold her tightly against your body - still unsure how you both manage to gasp at the contact in sync - and flip over so she's lying against the soft mattress. You let her think Snixx has come out as you devour her, and you internally sigh as she breathes and groans and moans your name.

When the tears come as she nurses a mug filled with more sugar than tea you grab the electric blanket, three or four films, lock the doors and close the curtains firmly. You make her some tea she'll actually enjoy drinking and grab as many snacks as you can find in the house. Then you gently lift her legs up and sit under them as the first movie comes on. When she looks at you with that expression, the one that shows exasperated amusement through her swimming eyes, you know she appreciates it.

As she falls asleep during the third film she's laid against you, with her head resting on your chest and her hands fisting your top. You've been rubbing her leg since the beginning of the second movie and she hadn't noticed, she even leant into your warm hands.

"Love you, Q." You mummer, and punctuate it with a kiss as her fists loosen too.

"Umm, me too S." She slurs in her sleepiness, she nuzzles her head into your chest more and sighs in contentment.

"Thank you." Her voice is muffled by sleepiness and your own chest but you catch it and shift further down to join her in sleep.

"Any time." You promise.


	2. Swimming

**_Foundations_**

**Disclaimer:**_Glee is not mine, sadly. I make no profit on this. These characters are not mine, or the couple in this would most definitely be canon._

_Leave a review, and lemme know on this one... This one is a first for me, and it's incredibly nerve-racking.__  
__Plus, any requests?_

_Maybe a little_**_M_**_...__  
_**_T_**_wo_

Breaking the surface of the water, even though you're completely out of breath, you're grinning. Taking deep lungfuls of oxygen you begin to swim to the edge and, once there, pull yourself up to sit up on the edge, your legs left dangling in the cool pool water. You can hear that their attention has been distracted from you now, their loud laughs and splashes float over to year ears like the sweetest symphony.

You run your hand through your waterlogged hair so the dripping bangs stay away from your eye line; the scene in front of you is far too good to miss. At the moment, Santana's mouth is wide open and closing at intervals as she blinks against the steady drip of water from Beth's swimsuit. She's holding the small eight-year-old above her head as she kicks her legs wildly, managing to make a surprising amount of water splash up and around as she scrapes the surface with the tips of her toes.

"Beth! Beth!" Santana's voice echoes around the tilled pool room and Beth's squeals stop, and her feet still, as she goes limp and looks down at Santana confusedly. She's out of breath and you can just make out her small stomach heaving against Santana's tanned hands as she tries to catch her breath. "Look," Santana whispers, her voice still echoing around the room. "We're Dirty Dancing."

Beth's face shows no comprehension and she looks down at the older woman as though she's mad, you can't help but burst out in loud, reverberating laughs as she looks so much like her father when she pulls that face. Her arms fall down and splash the water on both sides of Santana's face, which in turn causes Santana to drop her as she swallows a mouthful of chlorine.

She's stood choking on the water from a few minutes, and when she's finally done coughing, and has caught her breath, Beth is half the pool away from her, kicking madly with all the inadequacy of a child having just learnt to swim without armbands.

"You'll pay." She promises, pointing her finger at the grinning child as she struggles to speed up. Santana, being fantastic with all kids, only walks slowly through the water, barely even making a ripple, but it's enough for Beth to turn to you in desperation and shout at the top of her tiny lungs, "Mommy Q, Tanna's getting me!"

She's caught Beth before she even knows she's close enough, and your face feels like it's going to break from the permanent grin adorning it as she cradles Beth to her chest and dunks them both under the water together.

When they both come back up spluttering and coughing and laughing loudly you all but melt as Santana convinces her to sit out and catch her breath. You don't know which was the major factor in her making Beth promise this; the fact that Beth was just about to start another splashing war, or the fact that Beth was completely out of breath and red from head to toe as she heaved every breath in; but it makes your heart swell in affection for your girlfriend.

"Go on, go." She sends Beth off with a tap to her bottom and laughs loudly as the small blonde looks over her shoulder with a well directed glare, and continues until she's climbed out of the pool.

When you turn away from your daughter's retreating back you find piercing, dark chocolate brown eyes locked on yours and she begins to wade through the water painfully slowly, never breaking the contact. If you had still been standing your legs would have failed you.

She stops just in front of you, and lifts her hand as though to rest it on your knee, but hovers an millimetre above touching your skin, amusement shining clearly in her eyes. Goosebumps rise in anticipation of her touch and you shiver, glaring at her as she steps an inch away.

"Don't tease." You growl, unsure where the deep voice came from, but then she grins widely, places both hands on your knees and runs them gently and slowly up to your hips and back down, leaving a trail of fiery goosebumps in their wake.

Her fingers tighten on your knees and you feel a shiver vibrate your body as her gaze burns into yours. She pushes your legs apart and slides to stand between them effortlessly and gracefully, the water hasn't even stilled from the movement before your legs are clamped around her and your feet are locked behind her back.

"Child in the room." She breaths in warning, even as her gaze lingers on your lips and darken with want.

"Child in the changing room." You counter, brushing her wet hair back from her face and resting your hands on her neck, thumbs stroking her jaw, holding her in place as you bend down so you're eye level with her and your lips are on an equal level. You move in, locking your eyes on hers, and you just know your own eyes are as dark as hers but you keep your lips a millimetre away from touching the ones in front of yours, even though all you want to do is attach your lips and never separate, but you know it drives her crazy and you just love to tease her.

She growls and stands on the tips of her toes, pushing her lips against yours with force enough to make your head bob back up before she settles back to rest on her flat feet with a satisfied moan. You don't know when they moved, but your hands are resting on her shoulders and your fingers have curled, nails digging into her skin as you hold her close to you – you're sure there'll be marks.

As she pushes her tongue into your mouth and you gratefully accept it with an embarrassingly loud groan her hands slide up and cup your bottom, pulling you forward until your centre crashes against her stomach. You have no choice but to pull back from the kiss as sensations and feelings overwhelm you, and a deep breath rushes past your lips. She laughs and pushes up on her toes and into you more forcefully, pushing you even further forward with her hands.

"Santana." It was supposed to be a warning but it came out as a moan. Her breathy laugh echoes around the room. She pulls you forward as she steps back, so you're no longer sat on the edge but sat in her hands as she holds you both steady, walking to the centre of the pool. "We really shouldn't." Even as you're saying it, her grip tightens on you and her nails dig into your bottom; in reaction you can't stop a loud moan escaping from your throat and grinding against her once again.

She pulls you against her one last time - you can't stop yourself from throwing your head back and helping her push your hips forwards - and bites your bottom lip between her teeth before she groans in admission of the truth and says, "We _really _shouldn't." She sounds like she's in pain as she admits it and lets her hands drop so it's now only your own legs holding you in place.

When you've stopped panting as heavily, you nod and sigh heavily, eyes closed as your head falls to rest on her shoulder, taking deep, measured breaths to regain control on your muscles.

Once you've gained enough power in your legs to unlock them you stand before her and just opening your eyes to look into hers is enough to get you groaning loudly in regret. They're so dark they're black and her cheeks are so flushed it looked like she's been attacked with a blusher brush.

"Kissing is defiantly not a problem." She reasons with a shrug, looking at your lips once again and leaning down closer. "As long as Beth doesn't come back in too soon." Her breath brushes against your lips as she continues to lean in and your laugh is cut off by her lips on yours.

And suddenly you're once again surrounded by Santana like she's your whole universe. Your hands tangle in her hair as hers rest on your hips, her grip is so tight you know you're going to have nail marks there, but all it does now is spur you on and you run your tongue against her lips. You can feel the heat from her body – a stark contrast to the cold pool water - and you feel the tingles spreading from the skin to skin contact – the whole length of your body is in some way touching hers in the most exhilarating way – it surprises you that you're not creating sparks.

You feel your back crash against the pool edge, and very nearly shout her name as she releases your lips and moves her own kiss bruised lips down to your jaw, nipping and scratching as she makes her way down your throat. You throw your head back because you know where she's heading for and you're hoping that she'll hurry up, but not even tugging her hair gets her to hurry her pace. You growl in impatience and push her head, feeling like your whole body is alight with fire just waiting for her.

You're out of breath and your legs are wrapped around her hips again when she reaches her destination and wastes no more time; she bites down and you feel her tongue caressing the sensitive area of your collarbone.

"Fucking hell, Santana." You're voice is breathy, and you try to crane your neck back further, trying to give her better access. Your hands tighten in her hair, in what you're sure is a painful fist, and you have to swallow another shout of her name, because Beth is just in the next room.

Your errant thoughts are confirmed as she hisses against your neck and releases your stinging skin for a second before she reattaches in the same spot. Her breath causes you to shiver and expel all of the air left in your lungs.

She lets out a satisfied laugh against your neck, one that makes your whole body feel like a livewire, and begins her journey back up to your lips. She makes sure to do it slowly, nipping with her teeth and then soothing the sting with her tongue or lips. It's maddening in the sweetest way.

When she's reached the corner of your lips and is slipping back so you can kiss her properly and so you can show your appreciation by going to her very, very sensitive spot just behind her ear. She pulls back a centimetre and allows a second for you both to catch breath and make eye contact.

She's panting, and her chest is heaving against the water, something that would normally make you groan but you know if you do that now she'll think she's won. So you smirk and rub your nose on hers before moving forward to reattach your lips to hers desperately.

Just as your lips brush against hers and you feel her lips moulding to yours this time, and just as you begin to push against her to switch positions, you're both showered with a wave of water.

You both pull back with a gasp, though your legs are entangled, somehow, and your hands are so deep in her hair that it's hard to pull them out – it ends up that just your faces are pulled away from each other. Tingles from her skin still spark along yours, and it's very distracting as you look around for the culprit who literally just poured cold water on your passion.

You find her as she comes to the surface just over Santana's shoulder. Her laughs echo around the room and she points at your shocked, deer-in-the-headlights expressions with every inch the childish innocence she personifies.

"Child in the room." She moves her finger and points down on her own head, the other arm treading water to stay afloat. "How'd I do, mom?" She shouts, looking to the left. Following her gaze you find Shelby stood at the end of the room with her smart powersuit and her hair tied up in a business-like bun. You're cheeks flush for an entirely different reason as she laughs and gives her daughter a thumbs up.

"Perfect cannonball, sweetie."

You look at Santana, who's already looking at you with a deep and meaningful look that promises _Later, _suppress a shiver and nod in agreement, pulling your hands free gently and stepping just far enough away so that it's no longer obscene. Then she swallows heavily and her expression clears, she grins wickedly.

"You have your swimming costume, Shelby?" She shouts over her shoulder, and turns to look innocently at her old teacher. You smile just as innocently as Shelby's gaze flickers to yours with curiosity, and nod enthusiastically.

"Yes." The woman answers, smiling appreciatively at the invitation, "I'll just go get changed then shall I?" When you both nod the affirmative she turns on her heel and walks back into the changing rooms she'd just come through.

"Gullible." Santana whispers to you, and you can see in her eyes that she wants payback. It causes you to grin in agreement with her and you both turn to Beth, who immediately senses what is going on and fixes a warning glare onto her face, backing away slowly.

"She's so like you." Santana mutters as you both dive and catch your daughter before she can make an escape, three loud squeals echoing around the room once again.


	3. A Very Merry Christmas

_**Foundations**_

**Disclaimer: **_Glee is not mine to do with what I wish. These characters are not mine to get together, as I wish. I make zilch profit from this._

_Merry Christmas Eve everyone, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and a fantastic Boxing Day. _

_**T**__hree_

"Wake up." The voice filters through your consciousness and you feel something plump and familiar being planted against your lips, you find yourself suddenly very, very awake, but stay still, faking deep slumber.

"Santana." She sings, her plump – lips, you realise - rubbing against your own as her mouth forms the words. "Get up." She whispers, nipping your chin with her teeth, you have to concentrate not to gasp in pleasure as she bites harder immediately after. "It's Christmas."

"Damn it Santana. Why do you have to be so stubborn?" She growls a second later. The pillow either side of your head dips down and you feel her leg slide over your stomach smoothly before her weight rests solely on top of your waist, you feel your hands twitch in anticipation, wanting to hold her waist and feel her cool skin underneath your palms.

"Santana." She whispers, hot breath blowing across your lips. "Wake up." Her hands stroke your hair back and end up cupping your cheeks, creating a lull of heat and you feel your cheeks heating up in reaction to just her touch. "If you don't wake up now you're going to miss the surprise." Her voice has taken on a teasing tone now and her fingers tighten in your hair, pulling at the roots painfully. "Well I guess you're missing out." She sighs, disappointedly, tugging just once more.

Her fingers loosen and she pulls away, pushing up so she's sat straight, just as she begins to get off of you, your hands snap to her hips and you use momentum from your pelvis to help flip you both over.

The first thing you notice is when your hands land on her hips: you feel nothing but silky lace and cold, smooth skin. The second thing you notice is that she doesn't fight it, nor squeal in shock as you roll her over. Then, when you open your eyes you notice she's looking at you _with that look_ - the one that suggests nothing but naughtiness as she bites her lip and raises one eyebrow.

Then you look down and see nothing but creamy white skin contrasting with thin black lace.

"I love Christmas." You groan. Her giggle quickly becomes a moan when your lips descend on her collar bone and your fingers tighten on her hips.

* * *

"So, what can I do?" You ask, rounding the corner into the kitchen after your refreshing shower. You wonder for a moment if you've walked back into the bathroom when you're hit by a wall of steam.

"Set the table." The order carries a strained tone as it comes from the middle of the biggest steam-cloud near the oven. "Make sure -" She's cut off as a shrill ringing reverberates around the kitchen. Faintly, you hear her running around before it goes silent, a piercing note left bouncing in your ears in its wake.

"Right." You mutter, jaw locking in annoyance. "This is ridiculous." You stride over the kitchen window and throw it open, welcoming the cold air in with open arms and taking a deep, refreshing breath of cold air as it pulls the heat out. You turn around and see her leant over the oven and looking into a bubbling pot, a small frown bringing her eyebrows together.

"What can I help with in here first?" You ask, grabbing your apron from the hook.

* * *

"Q, everything is ready. Now all we need to do is get dressed." You whisper, slipping your arms around her from behind and pulling her closer to your body, resting your head on her shoulder.

"Everything has to be perfect." She stresses, pushing her hair out of her eyes once again and waving her hand across the multiple pots and pans sat on the hob, and the warm oven alight and emitting a comforting heat.

"It will be." You promise, your hands working their way to her hips where you begin to massage gently. "But what will not be good will me and you sat in our jogging bottoms when our parents turn up."

"I know, but your Abuela is coming." You can't deny the stress laced through her every syllable and your hands work deeper and harder in massaging her hips in an attempt to relax her. "You always go on about how good she is at cooking. I have to prove I'm not just 'some blonde bimbo'." You cringe at the turn of phrase your Abuela had used the first and only time she met Quinn five years ago. "Plus this is the first time you're seeing her in four years. This has to be special." She punctuates her last sentence with a hand wave and a heavy sigh, trying to push away to check the potatoes again.

"Quinn." You draw out her name as you step back, keeping your grip firm and turning her around by her hips, pulling her back close to your body. "This _is_ special. All of our family with us. Together. In _our_ home." When she looks no less tense and her shoulders are still up by her ears, you sigh in defeat and lean closer, pecking her cheek before you pull back and look at her seriously. "Quinn, let's go get dressed." You don't give her chance to argue as you grab the hand still waving over the hob and begin to tow her up the stairs and to your room.

* * *

"Was that someone at the door?" She asks breathlessly, pulling back from your lips and earning a disorientated groan from you.

"What time is it?" You ask, equally as breathless, blinking to regain your bearings. When you look to the clock on see it's half past one you swear loudly and pull away from her, straightening your dress and hair. "Coming!" You shout down the stairs as you sprint down and hop, skip and jump towards the door, pulling it open with a breathless grin.

"Hi!" You greet, spotting your parents on the other side of the door with your Abuela stood just behind them. "Come in." You gesture them in with a welcoming hand and step out of the way, holding the door open as your Papi walks in first. He hugs you tightly and walks through to the front room after hanging his coat on the hooks and placing his shoes under it, you faintly hear him moan as he sinks into your couch and relaxes after his long drive.

Your Mami steps through next and when she's pulled back from hugging you tightly, hands still resting on your shoulders, she raises her eyebrows knowingly. She pulls back, chucking at your confused expression when it's all she gets in response.

"You look a little flushed." She comments, unbuttoning her coat as she looks at you with her head tilted and that same knowing smile on her face.

You realise what she's getting at as you notice Quinn is still absent and picture her still pressed against the wall, leg wrapped around your backside and panting. "Really?" You ask in your best innocent voice - a skill you'd lost rapidly since teenage years – fighting the blush from your image.

"Yes." She says simply, folding her coat over her arm. Her leather gloved hand comes up and her thumb wipes at the corner of your lips for a moment, her grin increasing as she keeps rubbing. You realise belatedly it must have been Quinn's lipstick as she pulls away and begins to pull the gloves off of her fingers. "Quinn upstairs?" She imitates your earlier 'innocent' tone and looks at you from under her eyes, you do your best to look sheepish but you're sure all you accomplish is to look slightly giddy.

"Right here, Marie." Quinn says descending the stairs cooly and calmly, looking every bit the elegant host in her red dress. You faintly hear your Abuela tut and mutter something like 'shortening names', you ignore her, having not yet been summoned by her commanding tone.

"Q!" Your Mami says happily, striding forward and embracing your girlfriend warmly, she pulls back but keeps her hands resting on her shoulders as Quinn's come up to pat her arms, you feel oddly elated as they talk with wide smiles and happy eyes.

"Santana." Her thick, biting tone draws your attention away from the happy scene and to your Abuela still stood stiffly on the doorstep.

"Abuela." You find yourself accidentally thickening your own Spanish accent, and scowl, making sure to _not _do it again just because your Abuela insists on 'family heritage' being important.

"Take my coat." She demands, stepping over the threshold and turning her back to you, waiting for you to take hold of the back so she can step out of it. "You, blonde-"

"Quinn." You interrupt with clenched teeth, earning a warning glare from your Mami and a reassuring shake of the head from Quinn as she steps out from under your Mami's arm and towards you and your Abuela. You have a mad and fleeting thought of telling her to run away because you can tell by your Abuela's stance that she's tense, and a tense Camila Lopez means a snappy, argumentative one; but you fight it down and watch as your Abuela corrects herself:

"Yes, you. Quinn." Nobody in the room can deny the distaste as she speaks the name. "Hold my bag. Do not move out of my eye line, girl." Her beady eyes narrow as Quinn continues to step further forward with a small, almost patronizing smile.

"I assure you, Camila, I will not go inside your bag." Quinn reassures in a sickly sweet voice as she adds an extra sway to her hips. She takes the bag, seemingly ignorant to the dismayed expression on your Abuela's face (she dared to call her Camila and _not _Mrs. Lopez!). You have to put a lot of effort in to not laughing as she steps out of her coat, but you allow a small smile to crack your tempered features as you turn your back and hang her coat next to your Mami's and Papi's.

When you turn back around you find Quinn stood just beside you as your Abuela and Mami talk in faux polite voices - they never really got along, ever since your Papi married her they've been overly polite and terribly tactile with each other in trying to prove how much they 'love' each other. Quinn leans up slowly, smiling mischievously and pecks your lips soundly, the pop reverberating around the now silent hallway. When she's back flat on her feet her eyes are glinting with enjoyment as she wipes the fresh lipstick marks away with her thumbs and purses her lips, tuting loudly and shaking her head with a sigh. When you look in her eyes she mouths 'damn lipstick!' and steps back with a wide smile.

"I'm going to check on the food." She tells your glaring Abuela and your Mami, whose repressing a loud laugh, you can tell by the teeth biting into her shaking lip. You turn to watch Quinn go with something akin to amazement and amusement and you see her shoulders shaking with repressed laughs.

"Would you like a drink?" You question, turning back your two female relatives and noticing they both hold exactly the same expressions as before. Your Abuela nods mutely, turning and following your Papi's footsteps to the living room.

"Yes please." Your Mami whispers in a shaky voice, taking a deep breath before she walks into the living room composed.

You grin like a fool and walk into the kitchen, looking at Quinn as she hovers over the pans again, a lid held up in her hand.

"You, are terrible." You laugh, leaning against the door frame with your arms folded.

"I know." She shoots a grin over her shoulder and places the pan lid back down before turning and leaning against the counter next to it, shrugging and folding her arms. "You love me for it."

You stride forward and rest your hands on her hips, bending your knees to see her face better. "Yes, I do." You plant a gentle peck on her lips, content to enjoy this little bit of peace before the rest of your guests turn up and cause stress to no end.

"Say it." She sighs resignedly after a moment, leaning forward and resting her forehead on your chest heavily.

"I told you everything would be fine." You whisper, trying – and failing - not to sound smug. "_Apart _from the fact we got interrupted." You tease, tightening your hold on her hips, reminiscent of being in your bedroom not ten minutes ago.

"This morning wasn't enough?" She questions, her nose rubbing on yours as her breath runs on your lips teasingly, eliciting a shiver from you.

"Of you? Never." You state seriously, closing the gap and connecting your lips in a searing kiss. Just as you press her back firmly against the oven and you both relax unconsciously from heat emitting from it there's another knock at the door. She breaks away from the kiss with a loud pop and she looks in the direction of the front door with wide eyes, she swallows heavily and blinks once, slowly.

She begins to step away and walk to answer the door, but you catch her arm remembering what your Mami did when she came in and knowing her father would have a drastically different reaction to it – there was no way Judy would be knocking or entering first. She opens her mouth to tell you off for delaying her but you just wipe the lipstick that had smudged around her lips away softly and tuck the hair that had fallen out of place behind her ears.

"Go answer the door." You whisper, giving her a last peck on the lips. She pulls away slowly and begins her journey to the door in faltering, nervous steps. Just before she enters the hallway you see her head go up and her shoulders square and she begins to walk in confident, self assured steps. As you're getting three wine glasses from the cupboard you hear the door open and Quinn's strained voice echo down the hallway and no doubt into the living room too – you hear the voices silence from the room as they earwig.

"Father." She says tightly. "Mom."

"Quinn." His voice is gruff and you can already detect the distaste; you dread to think of his expression as he surveys you home and deems it 'unacceptable'.

"Quinnie, darling." Judy greets lovingly, you picture her hugging Quinn tightly and lovingly and sigh in relief, at least one of her parents doesn't seem to hate the way she 'leads her life'.

You concentrate on getting the wine from the fridge and pouring the wine so you can go to her as quick as possible when you hear her leading them into the front room; you have a terrible image of Quinn sat amongst a pack of blood thirsty wolves. As you grab a tray and place the three full wine glasses on it, you hear your Mami's attempt at conversation, even if it's strained and tense. When you're walking into the room the conversation falls like a lead balloon and Quinn looks to you desperately and awkwardly as you place the glasses in front of their drinkers.

"What can I get you to drink?" You ask Russell and Judy politely, straightening up to look down at them both with a small attempt at a humlbe smile.

"Wine, girl." Your jaw twitches in annoyance and you see Quinn's hand whiten as she grips the chair arm, your Mami opens her mouth to say something but you just jerk your head in a 'No!' type of fashion and she closes her mouth with a pop, glaring subtly at the ignorant man. You see you Abuela silently appraising Quinn's angered reaction and reel in a smirk as she looks away, eyes betraying her slight feeling of being impressed.

"Wine will be fine, thank you." Judy says politely, looking at you apologetically and then looking to your Mami with wide, and sincerely apologetic eyes.

"Q, babe?" You use the term of endearment purposely and hold back a satisfied smile as his back straightens, if possible, even further and he looks to the fireplace as though looking at anyone else in the room would physically harm him.

"Wine, but I'll help." She says standing and eagerly walking out of the room. She gently runs a hand along the small of your back as she passes and you follow her, knowing it's the best apology she can give for right now. You don't want her to feel bad though, it's not her fault her father is a racist and ignorant bastard.

You're not entirely sure what to say as you both pour more wine, bending around the kitchen in synchronisation. You're both tense and you see her jaw flexing in annoyance, a sure sign she was already nearing the end of her tether. Just as you're both walking out of the room, carrying two glasses each, you bend down to her ear and whisper, "It's fine. There's five of us and two of them."

She nods and leads the way out, a failed attempt at a smile falling from her lips.

* * *

"Well that was wonderful, Quinn." Your Papi states, rubbing his full stomach as he leans back. "Makes me glad I wore my bigger pants." He snaps the waistband playfully, earning an arm slap from your Mami. You grin at the familiarity of the gesture and feel like jumping from your seat with joy as you see Quinn grinning proudly and happily as she looks to you and then back to your Papi to answer.

"Thank you. But San helped me." She points across the table to you proudly and feel her foot, resting against yours under the table, run up your calf and back down as she wiggles her eyebrows. You have to choke back a giggle as you see every eye turn to you, you take a quick sip of your wine to cover the cough that escaped your lips.

"Yes." You Abuela says distastefully, as though she'd expected it, placing her knife and fork down next to her empty plate. "It was wonderful, nieta."

"Well, we work best as a team." You state significantly, placing your wine glass down and glancing at Quinn, giving her a proud and loving smile.

"Today is Jesus' birthday." Russell slurs, and after six glasses of wine it's no surprise, but his voice carries none the less, you're sure if you were upstairs at the other side of the house you'd still hear the contempt laced throughout his entire voice box.

"I know, father." Quinn states, looking at him with her head held high and a locked jaw, you wince slightly, seeing her hand tighten around her glass until all the blood leaves it and there's no colour left in the knuckles at all.

"Really?" He asks skeptically, leaning on the table and extending a finger from around the wine glass clutched in his red hands to point at his daughter viscously. "I assumed you'd forgotten." He then gestures to the surroundings and takes a big gulp of his wine, finishing the half full glass in one.

"Russell." Judy hisses as he places his empty glass back on the table with a thud.

"I'll have more girl." He ignores his wife and doesn't even look at you as he orders you around, you half expect him to click his fingers at you.

"Her name is Santana." Quinn's voice is shaky as it carries around the room like a threatening whisper. When you look at her you're unsure whether she's shaking because of anger or fear and feel like you should comfort her in some way, but you're on the opposite side of the table so you settle for running your foot on hers comfortingly. Her eyes divert to yours gratefully for a fraction of a second before she turns back to glare at her father as his voice echoes around the rooms silence again:

"I do not care about your whor-"

"Get out." Quinn says calmly, interrupting him as her chair scrapes back loudly and she stands, pointing to down the hall and towards the door.

"It doesn't matter." You start, pushing your chair back to stand to but you stay still when Quinn's furious gaze is turned to you; you know it's not directed at you but she's still terrifying when she has that expression (and inexplicably hot, but you're not thinking of that now.). The last thing you want is for her father to start something out of this: it would be just like his bitter little mind to pull a stunt like that. And after it all he's still her father and it is Christmas day, so even though you are literally shaking from rage you'd let it slip, just for today.

"It does matter." She states vehemently, looking you straight in the eye with seriousness. You see her tightened fists shaking slightly as she holds them stiffly by her side. "It does. You don't get to come here and treat her like that in _our_ home." She's turned back to and is looking down on her father now, and you can see she's barely holding back from shouting as her fingers flex out before she fists them tightly again. "She's _my_ girlfriend - yes, dad, _she's my girlfriend_." She emphasizes as he makes a sound of protest. "And I love her!" From the corner of your eyes you see your Abuela nod to herself and a sly smile creep onto her face as she directs her glare to Russell, her arms folded on top of the table.

Your attention is pulled away from your Abuela as Russell stands at this, a bit wobbly from his light headedness, but menacing none-the-less. "So. Get. Out." She states finally, pointing to the front door again, her jaw locked in resilience.

"I thought this was a silly phase, Quinn. You've had your head turned by an attractive rebellion method. There is still time -"

"I think you should leave now." To everyone's surprise it's your Abuela who speaks up, she stands too and leans on the table with her knuckles, subjecting him to her famous withering glare.

"Fine." He snaps, obviously knowing he's outnumbered, he takes time to glare at every face before her looks to his wife and summons her with a wave of his hand, and a clipped "Judy." He turns on his heal and storms from the room with heavy, unsteady footfalls. You all listen as he stomps about putting his shoes and coat on, once he seems to fall into the door as your all hear a faint bang and his deep voice curse; Judy winces but doesn't move as she stares at the half eaten turkey. When he's done he appears back in the doorway. "Judy. Come." Your lip curls involuntarily as his command and you see Quinn begin to speak again, but Judy's calm voice interrupts her.

"No, Russell." She doesn't stand but she turns her sharp gaze away from the turkey to look at him distastefully. "I am enjoying Christmas with my daughter and her girlfriend." She pauses then, looking him up and down with critical eyes. "Call a taxi. Do not endanger anyone else's life by your foolish driving."

"I'll do what I want -"

"I have the keys." She states flatly, turning away and ignoring him as he splutters incoherent words; she may as well have placed her palm in his face for all the spluttering and head wobbling he does in reaction.

"I'll show you out." Your Papi states in a deep voice and stands at his impressive height, his chest tensed as he marches up to Russell's side and frog marches him out of the door until it slams with a finalising bang.

Your Papi walks back into the room slowly, patting his stomach and giving Quinn a thumbs up as he grabs seconds from the table. You're sure he doesn't actually want anything else to eat, but in his funny way he's trying to make her feel better. You appreciate it beyond measure as the three other women stay silent, looking at Quinn with oddly – from your Abuela – worried eyes.

"We need another bottle of wine!" Quinn's voice is too high and the smile plastered on her face is entirely fake. "I'll go get one!" She virtually skips from the room in her false cheeriness.

You watch her go with knowing eyes and as soon as she's rounded the corner you stand, "Excuse me." You keep your gaze locked on where she disappeared from view as you follow her, not noticing your Abuela sitting down and grabbing her wine contemplatingly.

You find her leaning heavily on the counter, her head hung low with her eyes squeezed shut. She doesn't seem to hear your footsteps as she breathes deeply but she obviously senses your presence because she jolts up straight, a cheery grin thrown on her face. She turns away almost immediately as her lips shake and opens the fridge, pulling out another bottle of wine, in a grip too tight as she fights the swell of emotion.

"Quinn..." You mummer, unsure of what else to say, taking a step closer to her turned back.

"I'm fine." She waves her hand dismissively and turns but doesn't meet your searching eyes; you see water building up in hers as she stares intently at the coffee maker.

"Quinn." You state more firmly, taking the bottle gently from her unresisting hands and placing it on the counter she'd just been leant on before gathering her in your arms as the first tear falls, her head automatically rests on your chest.

She cries silent, body shaking sobs as she crinkles your dress in tight fists and burrows her head further into your embrace. You stroke her hair comfortingly and mutter words meant to sooth, with a delicate kiss placed on her head every so often.

"I love you." You mummer after a while, kissing her head and continuing your calming method of running your fingers through her silky hair effortlessly. Her shaking had already begun to slow but it seems to just float away as you mutter the endearment again.

"I love you too." She says, pulling back and pecking your lips lovingly in thanks.

* * *

When you both came out of the kitchen, wine in Quinn's hand, you know they all noticed her red rimmed and bloodshot eyes, and you saw three pairs of eyes zero in on the tear stains on the chest of your dress, but none of them mentioned it, you silently thank God or Fate, whoever, for that. It'd been barely five minutes after that when your Abuela demanded pudding and Quinn jumped up to go and get it, you offer to go help but Judy is up before you and making her way to the kitchen; no doubt to have a conversation with her daughter. You leave them to it and they're gone for fifteen minutes. When they come back in Quinn's eyes are freshly red and Judy's look as though they've been watering some - it makes you wonder how much she's used to his behaviour. You walk over and pull Quinn in to your side, feeling her arms wrap around your middle tightly as she nuzzles her head back into your chest and takes a deep breath.

Everything after that seemed to go smoothly, there were no hiccups in pudding and you all enjoyed a hearty share of Christmas cake each, despite you all already being full to the top; then you all transitioned to the living room with full stomachs and flopped down on the couches and chairs, waiting five minutes to build up more energy before you all exchanged gifts with warm smiles and genuine thanks.

Somehow you and Quinn found yourself curled in a chair together, but you don't mind one bit. She's keeping you warm and fiddling with your fingers that rest on her belly, while you play with strands of her hair with your other hand. Her head is leant back on your chest lazily with her feet tucked comfortably into the gap between the chair cushion and arm to keep her toes warm – you'd banned her from warming them under your legs, mainly because it was hard to cuddle her in that position. Gentle chatter rolls around the room and merry laughs occur every few minutes but you find yourself not listening, instead you're completely lost in the feel of Quinn by your side. You could live this way forever, you realise as your nose nuzzles in her hair and you inhale the familiar scent of her apple shampoo.

"Stop it." She giggle whispers as she pulls away slightly, a shiver rolling down her spine.

"Can't help it." You mutter in defence, leaning forward again and kissing the back of her neck with an open mouth, another shiver betrays her as she pulls away.

"San." She whispers seriously, leaning down the other way so she can look back at you. "We have-"

"Marry me." You blurt, feeling a blush rush to your cheeks as your voice causes silence to fall on the room and every eye to turn to the two of you. Suddenly you're wishing you'd have asked her once your family has gone, and maybe thought through your proposal more.

She pulls away from you slowly, and you feel a cold chill where her body was laid. She turns around so she's facing you with her back to the wide eyes behind her, her own eyes wide with shock.

"What?" She breathes, her voice sounding loud in the dim of the room. You look to the fire, at the roaring orange flames and realise, yeah, you don't have a ring and yeah, you sure as hell didn't plan to propose, but you sure as hell mean it and want nothing more than for her to say yes.

You sit up straighter and fiddle with your hands in your lap, looking down on them and finding a modicum of courage to word the thoughts you'd just had. "Marry Me. I don't have a ring. I didn't plan it and I didn't know I was going to ask until it came out. But." You pause and smile widely, meeting her eyes with your own shining ones. "I want to marry you and call you my wife." Your voice is raising with confidence and joy and you chuckle as you picture the scene of your next words with amazing clarity. "And I want sickeningly gorgeous blonde babies with you.

"Marry Me?" It's a question this time, and it comes out as a shallow breath. You know the three watching eyes behind you couldn't have heard it but your eyes are locked on hers as they change from green to gold to hazel and back again as she processes all of what you'd just said. It feels like the longest stretch of silence ever as she works through it and your hands won't stop fidgeting nervously in your lap.

"But - your Ab-" You move quickly and place a finger against her lips to stop her and her eyes widen slightly as she looks at you like you've lost your mind.

"I don't care - no, I don't." You say as she makes a noise of protest. "_You_ are my future. You make me feel so complete. I don't even think my heart is in my chest any more. When you had to go away those couple of months ago I felt so completely and utterly lost without you. My chest was so completely empty and then you came back and it was like my heart was returned, because you hold my heart. And yeah, that terrifies me, but not as much as the thought of you never holding it." Normally you'd cringe at all of the cheesiness you're expelling, but you find you don't actually care and grin widely, laughing as you admit the extent of your feelings in front of your parents. "I love you. With every inch of my being. I love you and I want everyone to know you're _my_ wife and I am _yours_."

You're silent for a while as a smile stretches across her face and tears form in her eyes. She brings hand up to gently run along your lips in silent wonder before she leans in and replaces them with her lips in a soft kiss. She pulls back a centimetre with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a raised eyebrow, her hands cupping your face gently.

"You don't have a ring for me?" She questions, quirking the already raised eyebrow. When you both laugh and your breath mingles together in the middle you surge forward and kiss her again, somehow pushing the both of you off of the chair and onto the floor, you both pull back, laughing loudly, before she squeals loudly and reconnects your lips, immediately deepening the kiss.

Someone clears heir throat but you let the kiss come to a natural end, looking down on your flush-cheeked fiancé with the widest grin you can manage. You laugh as she giggles beneath you and buries her face in you neck.

"That a yes?" You whisper, nuzzling your nose against the side of her neck.

"Of course it's a yes!" She shouts excitedly, nearly deafening you as she leans back and smothers your lips with hers again.

* * *

Later on, as you're both catching your breath and her head rests on your chest as your fingers run through her hair she giggles. You lean your head back into your pillow to look at her better, wondering if she's still as delirious from happiness as you are.

"When she was leaving your Abuela said to me 'Welcome to the family'." She reveals; it's such a momentous thing that you sit up suddenly and look at her incredulously. She sits up beside you, the grin that hadn't fallen from her face since you'd asked her still in place.

"Seriously?" You ask, struggling to believe what she'd just told you.

"Yeah." She laughs and shakes her head. "I know right." She giggle and shakes her head, always somehow in tune to your emotions. "But she said that and when I looked at her like you're looking at me now." You realise you're eyebrows have formed one continuous line and loosen your muscles as you take her hand and smile in wonderment. "She just said, 'if you can fight for my nieta like you did tonight against your own father I know you love her beyond what I could have hoped' and then grabbed her coat."

"That is-" You cut off, unsure how to word your elation properly.

"I know." She nods, pushing against you so you lay back into the pillows and she settles back in on your chest, cuddling into you tightly. "I never expected that at the end of today. Then again I never expected you to propose to me." She chuckles and silence falls on the room for a while. You're content with remembering how she'd looked so happy when you both fell to the floor, and feel a grin spread your face once more as you realise your Abuela has also accepted her. Unconsciously you both cuddle closer together and you hum happily as her head comes to rest on your chest.

"What did I tell you?" She asks suddenly, resting her chin on your chest so she can look at you with raised eyebrows.

"What?" You question, confused by her sudden question.

"_Don't_ propose to me on a special day." She recites and you recall the conversation you'd had after seeing some man proposing to his girlfriend on her birthday. She nips your stomach playfully and you wince, grinning.

"Oh, yeah." You laugh, rolling her over and praying down on her, hands either side of her head. "Oops." You know she knows you don't mean it as you go in for another searing kiss and your hand moves lower down her body.


	4. It's Christmas!

_**Foundations**_

**Disclaimer: **_Sadly, Glee is not mine and needless to say I do not get any profit from this. (The characters are not mine either, well one is :D.)_

**AN:**_ I'm so forgetful! I was supposed to put this at the start of the last chapter!  
__Guys, thank you so, so much for all of your reviews, and adding my story to your alerts and even favoriting it, it's the best praise a girl can get.  
__Now excuse me while I go and gorge myself on chocolate and watch Bridget Jones for the bazilianth time this Christmas; Enjoy! And Happy Boxing Day!_

_**F**__our_

Her eyes open widely and a grin lights her face as soon as she registers that it's actually here. December the twenty-fifth. It's Christmas day!

Never letting her grin drop, she wiggles in her covers for a moment, looking a lot like a worm, and then she rubs her eyes, making sure she's properly awake (just in case). When she's decided that she is very much awake and it's still Christmas day(!), she kicks her covers back and sits up straight, looking around her dark room for any signs of Santa, bouncing in anticipation.

Hanging off of her bottom bed post, lit up and just visible by the glow from her night-light, was a very full, overflowing, stocking. She squealed loudly and scrambled over her ruffled quilt to grab it and look inside with wide, excited eyes. Seeing the presents stuffed inside it she jumped down from her bed, a dull thud accompanying her landing.

"Come on Rupert!" She shouts, running to her door and yanking it open, her stocking gripped tightly in her right hand.

A ginger head appears in the mass of quilts, blue eyes wide and kitten-like as he jumps up and stretches, before following his owner's footsteps and leaping from the bed, not a sound as he lands on his paws, and slinks out, following the blue blur down the hall.

The loud thud of feet could be heard echoing down the hallway before a head of dark blonde charged around the corner at full speed. She didn't stop or slow, instead she sped up as she caught sight of the little gap in her parent's door. Fixing her gaze to it determinedly, she lowered her head and ran, moving her arms back and forth as she tried move faster than light. Rupert's ginger head following behind her in long, agile strides (for a kitten).

She's getting closer to her destination now, and her hands come out to stop her, her feet planting on the wooden floor in precise, practiced movements. She slides on floor and, once close enough, she grabs the door frame and pulls herself in, toppling onto the soft carpet at the door of her parent's room.

She hastily picks up the presents that had fallen and throws them back into her stocking – proof that Santa had been! And there's no way they can send her back to bed to wait a little bit longer! – once she's done, she hops up and sees Rupert sat beside her, waiting for her to make the first move, with a lazily flick of his tail it seems like he's egging her on.

"Good boy Rupert." She pets his head with soft strokes for a moment before she realises she's wasting good present opening time and pats him heavily once more before she makes rapid movements to the side of her parents bed.

Once she's there a frown mars her face and her hands come to rest on her hips in confusion. In a few years she'd find it funny and laugh, and then a few after that she'd cringe and wince and tell them to stop because it's _embarrassing; _now, she just wonders why Mami is holding Mommy like she cuddles Rupert.

Shaking her head and leaving the question until _after _she's opened her presents she leans in to her Mami's side – seeing as Mommy's head is resting on Mami's chest and Mami's arms are cuddling her.

"Mami." She whispers loudly. "Mami." There's no movement as both of her parents sleep on peacefully. "Mommy." She tries, moving her head closer to the top of her Mommy's. "Mommy, it's Christmas!" There's still no movement and she looks to Rupert helplessly.

"Mow." He offers in assistance as he licks his paw and settles himself at the foot of the bed, watching her with lidded eyes.

"Santa has been!" She says loudly, giving up whispering. Don't they know her gifts are waiting?

There's still no movement and all that seems to happen is that Mommy snuggles into Mami's chest. She huffs in disappointment, and walks to the end of the bed, picking Rupert roughly into her arms before walking back to the head of the bed with a disgruntled kitten. "You have to help me Rup. They won't wake up and Santa. Has. Been." She emphasizes her point by bouncing him, hoping he'll think of a way to wake them up.

He seems resigned to his fate as he allows the movement to shake his body and bob his head, his tail flicking in the gap of her hands as he looks down on the bed – a part of him wishing for them to wake up so he can go to sleep, and a part of him loving the little human for her own, special way of loving him.

When he spots a pair of sleepily amused brown eyes looking at him he meows and looks to the tiny blonde haired human holding him.

"Mami!" She shouts excitedly, beginning to jump again, loud thuds reverberating around the room and a high meow escaping Rupert in his shock. "Santa has been! Look!" She holds up her stocking as proof, nearly throwing it at her Mami in excitement. "We have to go and see if he liked the cookies!"

"Shh! Shhh!" Her Mami says, holing a finger to her lips as she strokes the hair of her wife down gently when she snuffles and frowns. "Mommy is asleep, Erin. Be quiet."

"I know." Erin huffs. "But she needs to get up! It's time open presents!"

"Shh." She warns sharply, giving her a warning look as she holds a finger firmly to her lips. Erin's excited bouncing immediately stops and she looks dejected as she tries to hide her upset in Rupert's fur. "Hey." Her Mami says, letting her stern expression drop and her hand drop from her mouth, reaching out to stroke her daughter's bed hair back before cupping her face. "Mommy wasn't well last night, baby. That's all."

Erin's brown eyes – exactly her Mami's shade – look to her Mommy worriedly and her mouth forms an 'O' as a little "Ohh." escapes her lips. She forgets about her presents in worry for her Mommy.

"She's fine." Her Mami reassures, drawing her wide gaze back to hers. "She just had a funny tummy last night. Nothing to worry about." She wonders why her Mami is grinning widely at the fact that her Mommy had a poly belly, and her brow forms one, just like her Mommy, as she tilts her head. "Hey!" Her Mami says suddenly. "Why," She draws out the word and grabs her daughters attention immediately as she looks up expectantly, "don't you go and get your robe so we can go downstairs and see what Santa brought?"

"Yes!" She shouts excitedly, forgetting about her sleeping Mommy as she jumps up and races out of the room, Rupert still bouncing along in her arms.

She runs as fast as she possibly can and resigns herself to the fact that without her cape she just isn't fast enough. But when she gets to her room she wastes no time in tearing it apart in search for her monster robe. Not finding it on the back of her door, where it normally is, she turns around desperately and dumps Rupert unceremoniously on the bed. She rushes to her draws and pulls them open but when she's unsuccessful in finding it there, as well as in her toy box, her wardrobe, and her quilt she looks to Rupert sat primly on her bed as he watches her.

"Help me Rup!" She says desperately.

He licks his paw for a moment, and then, deciding to help the tiny human, he jumps from the bed and crawls under her bed carefully, lying on top of the fluffy garment.

"We can't play hide-and-seek now Rup!" She shouts desperately, hands coming up to push her hair back as she looks towards where the cat disappeared. "Rup!" She shouts, hoping to get him out to continue helping her, but when all she gets is a simple "Mow." in return, she resorts to dropping on her knees and flattening her cheek to the floor to see what he's doing.

When she sees his blue eyes watching her from amongst a mass of grey, she squeals loudly, reaching an eager hand under to grab it, pulling it out with him still resting on it (he wobbles and digs his claws in in a desperate bid not to be thrown off of it.).

"Well done Rup!" She shouts, picking him off of it and cuddling for a moment before putting him on her bed, where he sinks in the quilt before emerging worse for wear, and pulling her arms in as she races from the room, her grin once again back. Rupert follows obediently.

As she skids to a stop, holding her monster robe on tightly, her head tilts in confusion again. She wonders for a moment why her Mami has her lips against Mommy's tummy when it was being naughty last night and why Mommy is smiling like she does when Mami dances silly with her. Then she sees as Mami looks up and kisses Mommy on the lips gently. Then they're smiling again as they look into each other's eyes and she sees Mami's hand rubbing Mommy's tummy and it all makes sense.

Mami is trying to get rid of Mommy's bad tummy. Though that doesn't explain kissing it, she realises. She thinks that if Mommy and Mami were looking at her they'd tell her they could hear her thinking too hard as she tries to think of why Mami and Mommy are so happy when Mommy isn't well: Maybe Mami was loving the bad out.

Taking pity on his tiny human Rupert meows loudly, gaining the attention of the humans who feed him.

"Good morning!" Her Mommy shouts, sitting up from her lounged position as she pats the bed beside her, and her Mami sits by her side, her hand almost unconsciously still resting on her Mommy's stomach and her thumb making soothing circles.

"Merry Christmas!" They both say together as Erin jumps onto the bed and sits Rupert on her knee, pulling her stocking closer to her and fiddling with it.

"Merry Christmas." She replies and grins excitedly. "Are you still poly Mommy?" She asks worriedly, her little forehead creasing as she worries and looks between her parents for an answer.

Her gaze flickers between her parents as they look at each other and smile widely – in a few years she'd remember it as them smiling lovingly and happily and as though everything was right in the world. She watches as her Mommy's hand comes to rest on top of Mami's on her belly and their fingers interlock, she's very confused again but looks up as she hears her Mommy laugh freely.

"Perfect, baby." Her Mommy says. "Everything is just perfect." She grins widely, which immediately dissipates her worry and she looks back towards her stocking and Rupert, who had nestled down to go back to sleep on her knee, as her parents kiss briefly.

"Now, why don't we open these and then we can go see what Santa left in the room?" Mami asks excitedly, pulling Mommy to lean back and into her as they both look to her with wide grins.

"Yes!" She shouts excitedly, ripping the paper form her first present.


End file.
